Red Faction: Day After Armageddon
by Twilightboy
Summary: One day after the end of RF Armageddon, Darius has taken Kara's death hard and has fallen into a deep depression. Sgt. Frank Winters asks Darius to lead a mission back into the temple and Darius accepts and returns to the place Kara died...or did she?
1. Day After Armageddon

**Red Faction: Day After Armageddon**

**Home of Darius Mason,  
>Bastion, Mars<strong>

Darius was silent as he glared at the wall of his humble little shack.  
>Just yesterday he'd defeated The Plague, but at what cost? Up until now,<br>Darius had been able to accept the losses the Colonists and Marauders had sustained fighting The Plague, but Kara's death had simply been too much for him to handle.  
>He took another drink from his half drained whiskey bottle and continued glaring at the wall.<br>When he'd returned to Bastion, he'd wanted to be left alone, the Colonists however had wanted to celebrate the defeat of their alien agressors as well as the restoration of Mars's Terraformer. Darius had managed to force his way through the crowd with minimal effort and had almost made it back to his shack when he stopped and noticed the stack of crates Kara usually stood by when she found some old EDF Equipment to sell.

He'd come close to an emotional breakdown on the spot, but had managed to keep his composure. That is, until one of McMohan's friends showed up. Despite the bald, bearded, hateful Martian's death, Darius was still being harassed by people who blamed him for releasing The Plague and failing to save the Terraformer.  
>This one, unfortunate man had caught Darius at a bad time, in a bad mood and had said some bad things. The man, who Darius had never met before, shouted angrily at the young Martian, tearing his gaze away from Kara's spot in the market.<br>Darius simply clenched his fists and gritted his teeth while the man mockingly asked him how it felt to be responsible for thousands of deaths. He'd been hitting closer to home with that one but as soon as he mentioned Kara, Darius could no longer be held responsible for his actions.  
>The man had been rushed to a doctor, suffering from a minor concussion and broken nose.<br>Darius had simply walked home afterwards.

As the battered and bruised Mason downed the last of his whiskey, he heard a knock on the door. Darius tossed the bottle onto the floor carelessly and barked "Come in!"  
>his hand rested on the pistol at his hip, anticipating some kind of lynch mob to show up.<br>Instead, Frank pushed open the door and stepped inside.  
>"Darius, mind telling me why you beat down that guy in the market yesterday?"<br>he asked, leaning against the door frame.  
>Darius shrugged and grabbed another bottle of whiskey from the coffee table by his chair.<br>"Bastard's lucky I didn't just empty a handgun into him."  
>Darius growled, sounding tired as he started to chug down the second bottle of whiskey.<br>Frank sighed and crossed the room, snatching the glass bottle away.  
>"Darius, this is serious. Now I know you're depressed, I understand, but you can't just go around beating on people. And you need to lay off the booze, you already look like shit."<br>Darius shrugged and sank lower into his chair.

"Should I give a damn?"  
>he half growled.<br>Frank recapped the bottle of whiskey and set it down on the table.  
>"Yes. Because we're going back."<br>Darius paused, processing the sentence.  
>"To the temple."<br>Frank clarified.  
>"Why? Do you enjoy torturing me?"<br>Darius asked.  
>Frank sighed, annoyed as he sat down on the couch.<br>"No Darius, but we need your help. There's still a few eggs laying around down there that need to be destroyed and you're the only one who went deep enough inside the temple to know where to find them. Essentially, we'll be using you as a guide."  
>Darius mulled it over for a moment,<br>"What is it you're not telling me?"  
>he asked.<p>

Frank's voice became more gentle and soothing as he said,  
>"You need to go back to where it all happened. Maybe it'll help snap you out of this depression if you spend some time there. Y'know, come to accept it. Kara would've wanted you to move on, not spend your life a tired drunk."<br>Darius sighed long and hard,  
>"I'll do it. Let's go."<br>he started to stand up but Frank pushed him back into his chair.  
>"Maybe you should have a nap first. You've been drinking after all."<br>Darius started to reach for the bottle of whiskey his friend had confiscated,  
>"Then at least let me get completely drunk before I go to bed."<br>Frank pulled the bottle back out of Darius's reach.  
>"No, now go to bed."<br>Darius grumbled to himself as he heaved himself up and out of his chair then slowly shuffled to bed.  
>"Get the hell outta my house!"<br>he called over his shoulder.  
>Frank rolled his eyes as Darius flopped into bed and passed out.<p>

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	2. Gearing UpThe Lameass Filler Chapter

_I own nothing. Thank you all for the reviews. I plan on finishing this story in the next two or three chapters. Be forewarned, the later chapters may include a very explicit lemon (sex scene)_

**Home of Darius Mason,  
>Bastion, Mars<strong>

It was almost noon when Darius finally woke up the next day. He spent the first few hours of the day nursing a fortunately mild hangover and getting himself cleaned up, shaved and looking like less of a drunk. Once he was done and had eaten a fairly small breakfast, he threw on a clean black tank top and brown cargo pants then stepped outside onto the streets of Bastion. The citizenry had calmed down significantly from last night and were mostly at home, sleeping off massive hangovers or just recovering from their exhausting experience over the past days. Because of the lack of traffic to slow him, Darius made it to the small armory in Bastion fairly quickly. Frank was already there, wearing a lightened version of the standard Red Faction kit. It got hot as hell deep underground where the Plague eggs had been left so Frank was wearing a simple tank top under his body armor.  
>"Morning."<br>Darius grunted as he walked past him, stopping at a locker with Mason, D. printed on its front.  
>"Morning,"<br>Frank returned, slinging his rifle across his back and stuffing spare magazines into his the pouches across his armor breastplate. Darius threw on a similair breastplate to Frank's as well as some armored shinguards that linked onto his boots. He strapped an ammunition bandoleer around his waist and filled every pouch on both it and his armor with extended magazines for his rifle. One of the things he'd learned during a particularly bad fight in Marauder territory was that the Plague's creatures required a lot of ammo to bring down. His rifle's barrels were red hot by the time he'd finished that fight and he'd had to take ammo off Marauder corpses several times. The constant magazine changes caused by pouring rounds onto numerous targets were what did in a lot of soldiers. The Plague would send its weaker members ahead as cannon fodder then attack more viciously once the Red Faction or Marauders' ammo was depleted and they had to change magazines.

Slinging his own rifle across his back like Frank's, Darius began digging deeper into his locker, brushing equipment aside until he found a small black case. He pulled it out and flipped open the lid, looking down at the old EDF Pistol inside. It was a beautiful weapon and was in great condition, especially considering its age. Kara had given it to him for his last birthday. Trying not to think too much about those memories, he slid the pistol into its holster on his thigh and took three full magazines for it, the added weight barely noticeable. At last, he stuffed a few energy bars into his pockets, strapped a medical kit onto his hip and attached a large water bladder to the back of his armor. Dehydration and heat exhaustion could kill a soldier just the same as a bullet to the head or claw to the throat, the only difference was the time it took and what could prevent it. He'd learned a lot during his engagements with the Plague.

Closing his locker with a slight sigh, Darius turned to Frank and shrugged,  
>"Let's go."<br>he said. Frank simply nodded in reply and lead the way out the back door of the armory. An APC and a squad of eight other Red Faction soldiers awaited them. Surprisingly, none of them talked to Darius or otherwise bothered him as he clambered in and sat down. Perhaps it was the look in his eyes, tired and impatient. Perhaps it was understanding. Many of the soldiers had lost loved ones to The Plague and still weren't ready to talk about it. Hopefully, this final cleansing of the Temple would give them an outlet for their pent up rage and grief.

As the door sealed shut, Darius leaned back and closed his eyes, trying to fall asleep. It would be a long ride after all...


End file.
